Inkflower
by RydenStewart
Summary: Briar is back in Summersea, after the nightmarish events of Namorn. Soon he meets a strangely familiar face, and discovers that their fates are oddly intertwined. BriarxOC


**- Welcome to Summersea-**

Briar sighed as he breathed in the air of Summersea – salt, dust and an array of spices. Perfect. He missed the distinct scent of his home greatly after much traveling of the known world, and then another nightmarish trip to Namorn.

Such an eventful trip, he thought, Berenene was beautiful and deadly – she reminded him of the mythical Ice Lily, a flower that enticed men and women through it's beauty, but was cold to the touch and permeated the air with it's fatal poison. A false flower, he thought.

Of course, in the end, the Empress had not gotten her way, and had created such a tantrum about it too. He'd heard of the grotesque manner of Shan's execution, along with Fin's and the Head Mage. Briar winced and rubbed his forehead.

Gory images of bodies filled his brain, and the sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh and tangy blood clotted his nose. He stopped pruning his _shakkan_ and took a few deep breaths, until his heartbeat slowed and he was calm once more.

"Briar, I thought I told you to go see a soul healer." There was no doubt as to whom that snappy, insistent voice belonged to. Briar knew that Tris cared deeply for him, but she sounded so _bossy_ like that.

"I know, I know, I'll go soon, I'm just busy with the _shakkans_, they're pretty demanding this time of year." Tris raised an eyebrow.

"We've been in Summersea for two months now. Plenty of time to see a healer."

"Tris, those head-shrinkers ain't going nowhere, don't get your skirts in a twist," Briar waved her off, speaking in his coarse thieves' cant. Tris glared at him, but then nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave.

"Bloody nosy, women are," Briar muttered resentfully to his _shakkan_.

* * *

She had grown used to the rumble of hunger. She hadn't anticipated the mediocrity of her craft. She had been taught that charms and talismans were treasure-magic, important, valued. While this was not untrue, there were a great many mages dealing out similar things, and money was scarce.

Despite her hunger, and worries of financial stability, she liked Emelan. Especially Summersea. It was warm and happy and busy, and reminded her of home, though she couldn't quite put a finger on why. Or perhaps it was a different home that she was recalling, something hidden in her far off past.

"You selling, dearie?" An elderly lady rapped impatiently on the wood of her table.

"Yes ma'am," she bobbed her head in a nod, putting a halt to distracting thoughts. For the next few hours she bargained and bickered with many customers who came to see here wares, and at sunset she closed shop. She packed the talismans into cloth bags, and those bags she placed in boxes. Since she had no horse, or cart, or donkey, she carried these things home herself. The table belonged to the market.

As she walked down the street she admired the layers of magic that decorated some of the homes she passed. She could see protection spells in doorways and walls, spells for good fortune, and spells for good health, all much stronger and more compicated than anything she herself could do. She was still inexperienced after all, no matter what her teachers had told her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a blaze of green magic, so strong she nearly walked into a passing merchant, who cursed at her. She apologized profusely, but when she turned around, the green magic blaze was gone.

One thing stuck with her as she made her way to the cramped flat she now called home.

Was that green magic in the shape of a miniature tree?

* * *

Briar grinned as he let himself into the house at number 6 Cheeseman Street. "I'm home!" he called, taking off his shoes and replacing his _shakkans_ on the shelves he had taken them from that morning. _  
_

"I know Briar," Tris muttered dryly from her corner by the window, not looking up from her book. Briar shrugged.

"It's just good to say that, after… Namorn." Tris looked up, and her expression softened.

"I know what you mean," she said. She returned to her book, but Briar knew that it was simply awkward for her to share her feelings on anything. They were similar in that respect, so Briar pulled up a chair next to his foster-sister and snatched a book from the pile next to hers, settling down to read it.

This is how Daja found them when she returned home. The smith-mage was tired, but happy after a long day of work, and she was looking forward to eating some of Tris's famous soup, but it appeared her foster-siblings had become too absorbed in their books to remember food.

_When was the last time you guys ate?_ Daja asked through their mental bond, too weary to open her mouth. Tris looked up and glanced at the clock. Sighing, she put her book down and began to gather the groceries that Briar had collected earlier in the day.

_Sandry, are you joining us?_ Tris asked, as the soup was slowly brought to boil.

_Hmm? Oh, no. Sorry, I'm reading over some documents for Uncle and I'll probably just eat here, _came Sandry's tired reply. _Did anything interesting happen to you guys today?_

_Well, I saw Evvy and Pasco trying to pull a fast one on Rosethorn,_ Daja chuckled. _Of course, she caught them, but Pasco was closer than Briar ever was._

_I resent that comment,_ Briar exclaimed in mock offense.

_Shut up Briar,_ Tris rolled her eyes. Briar just shrugged, and leant back in his chair.

_What about you Briar? Anything interesting?_ Sandry asked. Even Sandry got bored with affairs of state after almost ten straight hours.

_There was a pretty Earth Novice who gave me eyes at the market, does that count?_

_No it doesn't, _Sandry sniffed. _Kindly stop teasing me, or I'll coccoon you for a week._

_Both of you are being silly, _Daja sighed. _I'll come by to see you tomorrow Sandry. His Grace has business with me. _

_Dinner's ready,_ Tris brought the soup to the table, and the four of them continued to talk until it was time to retire for the night.

* * *

Briar set up his stall in the market on Airsday, arranging his _shakkans _just so. The weather was sunny and warm, with a cloud or three peppering the sky to make it interesting. Briar's favourite kind of day. It was also a good day to go shopping, so he hoped to do a good deal of business.

"They're real!" Gasped a girl, startling him. She was peering at his _shakkans_ with great facination, barely seeming to notice his presence. "How do they get so small? The magic's so strong, it's a wonder they don't break."

"The magic gives them strength, lady," Briar smiled. She must be a mage if she could see or sense the magic in his _shakkans_, but how could she not know what they were? Knowledge of _shakkans_ was common, even if the trees themselves were rare.

"Does it?" She blinked at him in surprise. Looking closely, she must've been around his own age - eighteen years or so - she had the look of a Yangjing native, with slanted brown eyes framed by a thin band of kohl, and silky black hair tucked into a plain braid. She took good care of her clothing, even if the clothing itself wasn't in fantastic condition. A student-mage then? She must be pretty good to sense the magic in his miniature trees.

"_Shakkans_, the trees, are shaped to be magical containers, like stones - the magic is imbued in their every fibre," Briar explained. _  
_

"But how are they so small?" She repeated. "Trees are supposed to be big, as tall as forty feet high!"

Briar nearly whistled. She's seen some mighty big trees, he thought to himself.

"The gardener shapes them from seeds, sometimes using wires to make them grow into the shape," he explained. "They are carefully pruned and cared for, and can live to be hundreds of years old."

This time it was the girl herself who whistled. "That's impressive," she looked at the _shakkans_ again. "So these are your work then? If you're a mage, do you still use wires to shape them?"

"How can you tell it's mine?" He asked, surprised. The girl looked at him, then blushed.

"They look like you," she murmured, turning back the trees. "Glowing green with curls and flowers. Pretty-like." She scratched at the back of her neck and Briar noticed her fingers glowed with silver-starlight magic in strange shapes.

"What's your name?" he asked, as she ran her fingers over the cherry tree.

"Gwinn. Gwinneviere Farron," she told him, still looking at the trees.

"Briar Moss." Now she looked at him, eyes wide with shock. He sighed, wondering what stories she'd heard of him.

"You ain't kidding me are ya?" She whispered, and it was Briar's turn to be startled by the sound of his old thieves' cant.

"I ain't kidding," he told her.

"Urda defend me." She looked about to faint, so Briar pulled out a stool and made her sit, looking around he saw that shoppers were trickling into the market, and most of the other stalls were set up already. Soon the market would be busy, and a fainting girl might be trampled under foot.

"What were you expecting when you heard of me?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Someone smaller," she answered straight away. Now he laughed outright.

"_Why_?" He managed to ask between breaths. She blushed an even fiercer shade of red, and glared at the ground.

"Folks keep saying how _young_ you are, so I kept thinking up a crazy-imp kid, not a fullgrown _hazi_."

"_Hazi_?" Briar didn't recognize the word, but Gwinn seemed too preoccupied to hear the question.

"Excuse me sir, but may I look at that cork oak?" Interrupted a mage, dressed in finery and oozing the pompous arrogance that only family money could buy.

"Of course," Briar, moved to attend to the customer, and when he looked back, the curious Gwinn had disappeared. Strange kid, Briar thought.


End file.
